The Age of Children
by Second-Hand Musings
Summary: Before his career as a Supervisory Special Agent, Hotch was a prosecutor for the DA of Virginia. He is forced to put a new case at the head of the dockett because it involves the daughter of a US Ambassador. Somewhat AU; Hotch/Em
1. The Law Should Be Blind

"I can't believe this, Sir. I just don't understand why this girl's fame makes her case of more importance than any other. This is completely-"

"Mind your tongue, Prosecutor. You're heading into bad territory; it's time you keep your convictions to yourself and-" The District Attorney sat at his desk with his back to the young lawyer. From behind him, he could hear a fervent scoff.

"And do what? Because, certainly, it won't be protecting justice; and it should be noted that I was hired for my personal convictions. I always put the law first, as is the duty of a lawyer, last time I checked." The dark haired man- merely a boy, in the presence of the D.A of Virginia- paced out of frustration. He had wanted nothing more than to do what was right in the eye of the law. Taking this case ahead of all others, simply on the basis that the victim was the daughter of one US ambassador, was not just in the slightest.

"You need to shut your mouth and follow orders, Hotchner. You're smart as hell, but you let your naivety stand in your way- if you'd just do as you're told, you would get so much farther in your career-"

"I signed up to be a lawyer, not a fame-monger. And I'd rather get nowhere, be second-rate, than take a case simply on its media attention. Anyway, shouldn't this be DC court jurisdiction? She's an ambassador brat."

"The sexual assault occurred at her father's place in Arlington- at a dinner party. She is a victim, Mr. Hotchner; ambassador brat or not, the law promises her a day in court."

"And she'll have it, by God. But not before those who have been waiting." He turned to leave, his anger still radiating in his cheeks, making him flush red. As he was rushing the door, the D.A called him back to the desk.

"You will be taking this case, Mr. Hotchner, or you will be actively searching for a new career path. Here is the file. I've already talked to Miss Prentiss, she will be meeting you in our board room at seven tonight."

Aaron ripped the papers off the wood surface, stowing them in his briefcase with the force one would equate with a violent punch to the face. "I'll be taking a working lunch," he hissed lowly and stormed out into the street.

It was with bitter disdain that the lawyer sorted through the case at the coffee place next door; photos of a ripped thong, a damaged bedroom door, and one of the young woman herself. She was bruised, with a black inkblot beneath the skin of her left eye, as well as deep scratches etched into her flesh below her breasts. He let his eyes wander the picture and allowed, if only momentarily, a feeling of empathy to overwhelm him. He rubbed his thumb over the glossy, two-dimensional face; noting the way her brown eyes still sparkled with a sense of purpose, even in what should have been her darkest moment. Revealed again, having to pose in nothing but a bra and shorts for the cameras after the most intrusive act of all. The prosecutor sighed and called for another coffee.

By the time he slipped into the boardroom at six forty-five, he had worked his way to a professional calm. He could not blame his client for the irresponsible decision if the D.A and he reckoned that it was still his job to represent her in court. He prepped the table by spreading out the evidence, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge in the attached kitchenette, and taking one last lung-splitting breath to ensure that he was in the frame of mind to continue on in an appropriate manner.

He waited. He waited for nearly an hour, in fact; long enough to start disliking the girl once again, chalking her lateness up to some supposed air of entitlement she felt. With annoyance on his face and in his hands, he had just begun recollecting the papers when the door opened.

"_**I am so sorry!"**_ It was the victim, Miss Prentiss, wearing a look of apology on a face too genuine to even be remotely related to a political figurehead. "I- I got stuck in traffic and- and, I just knew I was going to be late! I didn't mean to keep you waiting." She threw herself down in the seat beside his, passing him a large Starbucks coffee cup. "A token of apology." She explained it with a self-deprecating smile.

Aaron scoffed to himself, but ended up feeling sympathetic anyway. "It happens to everyone," he commented, "Richmond rush hour is hell. Let's get down to business."

"Wait. Is my apology accepted?" She looked at him with youthful eyes; those vibrant eyes from the photograph that had so thoroughly entranced him. In reality, they were framed by a porcelain face, partnered by thin, pink lips that curved into a most honest grin.

The lawyer grinned softly. "As long as the coffee is black, you have my forgiveness." She looked relieved.


	2. In the Name of Sacrifice

Aaron Hotchner's strength as a lawyer was creating a powerful repertoire with his clients. As he sat in the boardroom with the one victim who, though vibrant and blushingly honest, wanted nothing more than to keep her painful memory to herself, he began to gently push his way into her mind. _"I know this is hard for you; brutal. It's like- having to relive it again and again, right? As if once wasn't enough."_

"I just feel so sick of repeating it," she explained, grabbing her dark hair into a bunch at her neck. "He came in while I was in the shower. I got out, he raped me. That's it."

"That's not _it_, Emily- may I call you Emily?" He sat leaning towards her in a way that signaled he was willing to listen, to soothe.

She bit her lip as she released her grip on her tresses and folded her hands in her lap. "Yeah, Emily's fine. I don't know what else to say about it."

"Let's start with this- your attacker, he was-"

"My father's business associate. They run a marketing firm together."

"Okay. And had he been drinking? This was a dinner party, yes?" He prodded with an easeful patience. On a more personal level, he didn't want to upset her. She was too beautiful to cry, and- as Aaron saw beautiful women cry more often than he should, doing heavy cases like this one- he wanted to spare her the tears.

"Yeah, I- I think so. **But that doesn't mean what he did was okay, you know**. Women should never be-"

"Well, _damn right_ it's not okay. I'm not saying that at all. It's completely wrong, no matter how you look at it. I just need to get a feel for what really happened, so I can best prepare for the defense's counter-attack. They're pleading not guilty." His youthful vigor came out in his attempts to quell her; he revealed his passion for her case- and, subtly, her- as he brushed her dark bangs from her face. "Okay? You've got to let me in here. Trust me; I'm on your side."

"I don't think anyone is on my side. No offense, Mr. Hotchner. My mother hired you only because she knew this would be scandalous- she'd rather I not go to court, but if the press got wind of her covering up a sexual allegation from her daughter to protect her ex-husband's company, I'm sure it would go over terribly."

"I don't know why she hired me, Emily, but I can promise you that I'm going to fight for you just like I fight for everyone else. The law is blind, remember? I'm not going to do anything in her favor, or your father's, or anyone else's. This is about _you_. Only you had to live through it, and you'll be the one to always hold it. I couldn't care less what they wanted me to do."

"My mother knows the District Attorney," she admitted ruefully, "She's been pushing him to get this case over with- she'd rather me lose, honestly. The idea that I lied about being raped is minimal in comparison to the possibility that she could be alleged to have orchestrated the conviction of her ex's business executive out of a spiteful revenge plot."

"I've already talked to the D.A. I made it clear to him that- pardon me- I don't give _two shits_ about the political climate surrounding this case. It's a lawsuit, not an election. You've spent your life second to your mother's reputation, I'm sure. Let's keep the focus of this case on you, as it should be." In fact, Aaron knew too clearly what it meant to be second to a parent's reputation. As the son of a workaholic lawyer, who had gained much esteem in his career, he understood fully the _sacrifice_ that needed to be made to uphold it.

Every single time he was cursed at, smacked around- in the name of _sacrifice._

Every time he locked himself in the restroom with gauze pressed to his forehead after his father had a "rough day at work"- in the name of _sacrifice_.

Every night he tried to look after his younger brother, Sean, who knew nothing more than screaming and violence, in order to instill in him the possibility of more- all done in the name of _sacrifice_.

The word sacrifice had come to mean something appalling. Aaron shuttered as he brought himself back to the present and promised himself that he would learn to better control his emotions in the future. "So, with that being said, let's talk about you."

She then proceeded to tell him everything; the way it felt when she was shoved against her bedroom door, defiled against the poster of an Italian boy band that she loved. The way she cried for help and, though there was only quiet chatter downstairs, no one came. The way her mother acted with an air of frustrated nonchalance, angry only that her daughter had disrupted a _very important meeting_ to ask for a ride back to her other home. The way she was scoffed at, ignored, and left to curl up alone on the sofa and await the police's arrival.

Suddenly, Hotchner grew so sick to his stomach that he was certain he would vomit. "No. You- you _deserve_ better. We will win this case, Emily, but it will mean nothing to you. Because you still have the memory. A guilty verdict will never take that away from you; but it is the closest thing to justice we can get. I, I have to go home and transfer the recording into type. Do you have somewhere to stay?"

"My mother and I are staying in the Hilton by the courthouse." She spoke softly now, as if she was again naked in front of man's dirty eyes.

Aaron looked thoroughly disgusted with the idea. "If you don't feel like staying there, give me a call I'll set you up somewhere else. This is my cell phone." He handed her a card and grabbed her coat for her as she headed for the door. He draped it over her shoulders and bid her a heavy goodbye. As he left a few minutes later, he could only whisper one phrase to himself over and over. _The world is so fucking ugly. _


	3. Moral Standards

**The phone rang at three A.M. **At first, Aaron didn't even register it, sprawled out on the couch against the wall of his home-office with Serif words still floating impatiently behind his eyelids. He had spent the past four hours typing up his interview with Miss Prentiss and had finally finished only thirty minutes previous. He curled up on the couch hoping to get a few hours' sleep before prepping his client for court in the morning.

But the phone kept ringing and by the third or fourth chime, he realized who was calling. Jumping from his position rapidly, he grabbed the chunky, portable phone and pressed it to his ear. "Aaron Hotchner, Prosecutor and Attorney at Law." He always answered that way- it was direct, to the point.

"Hey, it's Emily," she spoke quietly, barely above a broken whisper. "My mother changed her mind- she wants me to drop the case."

"What? Now? Why- wait, don't explain on the phone. Just pack some clothes for tomorrow; something court appropriate. I can be there in ten."

"But my mother-" To this, Aaron began trembling with frustration. Emily certainly could elicit emotion from him, though he tried his best to remain in control of his feelings.

"Fuck your mother. Until you waive your right to trial, I'm your lawyer. And I think you should push this case- you deserve justice, Emily. I'll be there in ten minutes, like I said. Will you be waiting?"

"Yes." She replied and hung up. Hotchner felt a stinging anger in his nerves as he grabbed his keys and headed for the parking garage, still in his clothes from the day before. He pulled out onto the street, allowing his mind to plunge into that familiar melancholy that always seemed to take over when confronted with life's unsightly hideousness.

It took less time than expected to reach her, as the streets were mainly empty. He pulled in front of the hotel.

Emily was already out there, wearing long pajama pants and a hooded jacket. Aaron hopped out and approached her, reaching for her bag. Instead, she threw her arms around him. "What are we supposed to do?" She was crying, now- softly, as if she thought he couldn't hear.

He touched her hair. "Well, we go to court in the morning, as planned. I told you, I'm representing you, not her."

"But-" She sniffled and, in that moment, Aaron was reminded of her youth. She was barely eighteen, and she still needed that emotional reassurance that a parent ought to be giving on the night before her trial. He proceeded to pull her in tighter.

"It'll be okay, Emily. I'll take care of it, alright? If we have to, we'll file a court case against your mother- I know for certain she'll cave, then. Having a lawsuit filed against her won't improve her career." She just nodded into his shoulder and let him bring her to his car. He offered to set her up in a different hotel, but she refused.

"Maybe this is childish, but I don't want to be alone; can't we just start prepping for the case?" She asked, twisting her thumbs in the passenger seat.

Her lawyer ran his hand through his black hair. "It's only four in the morning, Emily- I'm not sure what we can do. But, if you don't want to be alone, you can certainly come back with me. I'll sleep on the couch; I was there when you called, anyway. You can take my bed- you need your rest for tomorrow." He yawned quietly, covering it with his hand.

"I don't want to intrude. I'm sure your wife- or your girlfriend, or-" Aaron was amused that it didn't occur to the young woman that he lived alone. He just smiled at her dryly.

"None of the above; it's just me. So, you won't be intruding at all. In fact, I got this waffle maker for Christmas last year, but since I never have any morning guests, I haven't really got to use it. Since we're not on the docket until noon, you get to be my first tester." He said it to lighten the mood and it appeared to work. She smiled eagerly and nodded. He leaned back in his seat as he brought her to his place. "Let's get you set up for the night, okay? The bedroom's here, the bathroom is down the hall, and I'll be just in the room next door. You come on in if you need anything." He followed her in, ensuring that she would be alright before returning to the couch in the next room. "Goodnight, Emily." He called on his way out.

"Goodnight, Mr. Hotchner." She replied, to which he shook his head.

"We're on first name basis here, Aaron works." He slipped into the office and shut the door before she could respond.

It had felt like Aaron had just been asleep for a few minutes when he heard the door crack open. He opened one eye slowly, to see Emily standing in the doorway, her face plastered with tears, holding the throw blanket that had been at the edge of the bed. "What- what's up?" He asked drowsily, sitting.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't going to bother you, but- but, I-" She burst into a second fit of sobs, coming to sit on the edge of the sofa. He hadn't expected her to seem this fragile; his mind still held onto that image of those powerful brown eyes, unwilling to bend or compromise. Aaron, unsure of how to comfort her, brushed a tear off of her cheek.

"It's okay; it's okay to be upset, it's understandable, Emily. You're not bothering me." He pulled her into an embrace, thinking only of how to quell her fears. In this mindset, he wasn't being most professional; so, when she buried her face into his neck and it felt as though she may have kissed his flesh, he thought nothing negative. She looked back up at him, checking to see how her move was received, which assured Aaron that his initial judgment was correct. He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, noting how it luminesced in the light from the hallway.

She then pressed her lips to his hand; he noted how beautifully innocent it was. He allowed her to push him back against the sofa and begin nimbly unbuttoning his shirt. It was as she was carefully removing her own that he stopped her. "Emily- are you sure you want to- I'm not pressuring you to do this-" He trailed off as she ran her nails softly against his chest. She never replied to him with words, but made it quite clear how she felt about having sex.


	4. Ten Years Later

_-Ten years later; Quantico, Virginia-_

Aaron Hotchner sat with his head in his hands, glancing wearily at the pile of cases stacked on his desk in the back office of B.A.U floor of the FBI's training facility. The Behavioral Analysis Unit had recently lost an agent- Elle Greenway- and, as team leader, Aaron had taken on all of the cases delegated to her to analyze, as well as his own.

He picked up a file and glanced through it briefly, before deciding that he couldn't successfully digest the information without coffee. He slipped out into the bullpen to grab a cup from the coffee machine in the back, meeting up with a few of his agents by chance. Spencer Reid, the youngest agent- and MENSA carrying genius with multiple PhDs- gave him a friendly wave. "Hey, Hotch. Did you get a chance to look through that email I sent you about that case in Minnesota? It's extremely gruesome and the M.O is really specific; it's frighteningly similar to that unsolved case in Washington State. I was thinking that they may be connected."

Hotch nodded noncommittally; with all of his own work to sort through, he hadn't gotten around to reading emails. "No, Reid. I'm sorry- but, if you give me a few minutes I can go through that. I remember that case, it was-"

"Hotch," It was Derek Morgan, another agent. He came to stand beside them, crossing his arms and standing in that macho stance that, Aaron figured, he took on unintentionally. "The station in L.A has been calling nonstop. They keep saying you haven't been returning their calls."

"No, I don't think I received any messages, if I could just get back there and recheck my cell phone-"

"**Hotch." **Being the one to whom everyone answered came with a heavy amount of responsibility- and, at times like this, a crushing amount of stress. Yet, Hotchner kept his face calm- taking on that stone-like expression that he had mastered shortly after is first case as an FBI agent five years prior. Somehow, after seeing so much villainy in society, simple issues at the office seemed unimportant. He took a minute to recollect his thoughts before turning to face the newest person vying for his attention.

"Yeah, Gideon?"

"Did you approve a team transfer?" James Gideon- one of the most famous (if not infamous) FBI agents on the team and Hotchner's co-leader- seemed extremely frustrated; holding onto an official-looking paper.

"What do you mean?"

"We have a new agent, she starts today. Did you approve this?"

"What? A new agent- today. No, I haven't even heard about this before. Who approved this?"

"The Hell if I know- but, she should be on her way up, now." Everyone turned to face the door as it open, revealing a dark haired woman with a porcelain face and deeply set, fierce eyes. Hotchner caught himself losing his stoic expression and reminded himself harshly to breathe. "This," Gideon slipped into his _I'm-in-control _persona with a friendly smile, "Must be Emily Prentiss. As our newest agent, I expect everyone here will make her feel welcome. Agent Prentiss, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner, our team leader. Why don't you accompany him back into to his office so that he can get you briefed?"

Hotch glanced at her expression, which mimicked his perfectly. He straightened up, approached her, and held out his hand to shake. "Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner." She took his hand but, as they pretended to be strangers, Hotch couldn't help but let his mind wander back to the other things those hands had done years before.

"Agent Emily Prentiss," She replied and followed him back to his office. He shut the door and was almost convinced that he would say something about their previous relationship, but he did no such thing.

"I'll admit that neither Gideon nor I approved this transfer, so I'm not exactly sure what _to do_ with you, yet." He said it dryly, so without the emotion that used to grip his voice. In fact, as Emily looked him over, she realized that nothing in his appearance signaled that he was the same man she had been so youthfully attracted to a decade ago. "Which leads me to an important question; how exactly did you land this position without our approval? Did your mother have-"

"No. My mother had nothing to do with this; thanks for the warm welcome." Emily had matured much into a woman sure of herself; vibrant in wit, friendly, yet extremely guarded. Maybe it was his years as a profiler that urged Hotch to begin analyzing her- but realistically, he wanted to see how she'd changed- grown- since they had last seen each other. He suddenly became quite aware of his own inadequacies; self-conscious of how tired he looked, old- even. Behind his vacant mask, he noted that she was still beautiful; with her newfound confidence, even more so.

He allowed himself to break a soft smile, "My apologies, Agent. I hope you will feel welcome here. I'll put you at our vacant desk out in the bullpen, next to Dr. Reid. I'm sure he'll make you feel right at home- just don't ask him any questions."

"Questions about what?"

"Anything you don't want to hear about for an hour or more." He told her with another smile; though he rarely grinned at work. As he followed her out the door, he put his palm on her lower back- it was something that just felt natural, a remnant feeling from his past life with her. She said nothing, but allowed his hand to stay without comment.

He pulled away only when they were in full view of the team. Emily glanced back at him with a sparkle in her eye.

"There's this place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo. It's the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me." –Gretchen Kemp


	5. Nothing to Feel Uncomfortable About

It was funny the way people seemed to keep resurfacing into Emily Prentiss' life. It was as if each time she was reborn; in essence, recreated to escape the overwhelming conspiracy she operated under- something would remain from her first life. In this existence, it was Aaron Hotchner: the young lawyer that had taken her rape case in spite of political rejection, who had been the first to pierce the veil of privilege and discover that, beneath it all, there was an innocence to Emily (that was since dead).

It was no surprise that she had lusted after him, then. Loved him, even- though she knew few ways to show love other than sexual favors. He filled a palpable void in her life at that time; she needed someone who _cared_ without conditions, who wanted nothing more than her self- and who asked for nothing but gave everything he could. Aaron Hotchner was someone who managed to care for another human being with such gut-wrenching passion that it was hardly concealable.

But now, as he moved coldly about his office, Emily could see nothing of that man. In fact, she was under the impression that he would pretend their fling never had occurred, if not for that simple gesture of his palm against her back. Now, she was just confused. She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing out loud.

"The first day is always stressful." A woman's voice murmured from behind her. She spun in her chair to find a petite blonde with a friendly smile and bright, all-American face. "Trust me, it seems overwhelming at first, but you'll get used to it."

"I didn't get the most friendly welcome from the unit chief," Prentiss admitted in return, "I'm afraid I'm not exactly an invited addition."

The girl frowned- a look most unbecoming, compared to her bright grin. "Who, Hotch? He's always like that- but he's a great guy beneath it all. Really understanding. He's just- _he's been here a while_. Once you see what we do for too long, you kind of lose touch with your manners, I think." They both laughed. "I'm Jennifer Jareau, but everyone calls me JJ."

"Emily Prentiss." As if she had been invited, JJ plopped down beside her and began explaining the inner workings of the team.

"Hotch is our backbone; he keeps us on task, focused. He doesn't let anyone get hurt or slip through the cracks. Then, there's Gideon: he had a great career in psychology education and criminal behavior before coming back to work at the BAU. He's brilliant- just don't take him by surprise; he's still got some PTSD from a case a year back. Morgan, he's our tough-guy. Real macho, but he's a sweetheart beneath it all. There's Reid, our resident genius. He's only twenty-five, but he has three PhDs. He knows everything about everything. Garcia is our tech master. She's cute and spunky, but never goes into the field because blood makes her cry. Yeah, I think that's about it."

"Wow," Prentiss said sarcastically, "I joined a real cookie-cutter crowd."

"**Ha. Hardly." **It was Gideon, making a side note in passing. "You'll fit in well, Miss Prentiss."

"As long as she stays on Hotch's good side." Then, Derek Morgan came over and leaned on her desk, grinning charismatically. "He can be a real hard-ass, sometimes." They all shared a laugh- one that was cut short by a quick cough.

"Boardroom, five minutes. We've got a case. And Morgan _thanks for that_." It was Hotch, looking severe. His expression sent a chill down Emily's spine. A decade ago, she would've thought his stony expression inconceivable. She nodded in response, blushing. He left them just as suddenly.

"What did I tell you?" Morgan chuckled, un-phased. He headed into the boardroom after the unit chief. The others followed suit, with Emily in the rear. By the time she closed the door behind her, there was only one seat available- beside Aaron Hotchner. She sank into it lowly; trying not to look at him. He made no notice of her.

"Three victims in Illinois. All women; victims of sexual assault anti-mortem. The Unsub seems to have a type- younger brunettes, white, of affluent families. The first victim, Carey Price, was the daughter of a senator." He flashed her image on the screen and Emily couldn't help notice that the girl looked just as she had when she was that young. It appeared that Agent Hotchner agreed, because he sent the most discreet look in her direction, though he kept analyzing without hesitation. "Our wheels will go up in twenty- I hope Agent Prentiss has a bag ready."

"I do, Sir."

He nodded in miniscule approval. "Right. See you on the airstrip." Everyone began exiting the room, but Emily lingered behind. Aaron stood with his back to her, facing the board.

She swallowed, uncharacteristically nervous. As an ex-CIA agent, she was used to putting on a brave face: missiles, internal governmental corruption, even faking a love affair with an international terrorist. But facing Aaron Hotchner after all these years- given how desperate she had been back then- was nerve wracking. "They call you Hotch," she started, "I guess I'll call you that, too."

"Call me whatever you like, Agent." He was playing dumb, like he had no recollection of their past. Still. She wondered if he was just as antsy around her, but figured he probably wasn't. He was still handsome, intelligent-and making good money. He was most likely married.

"_Okay._ I just wanted to tell you- it wasn't my mother who set this up." She slipped over to the door and shut it. "It was-"

"The CIA. Yes, I've been made aware. I spoke to the director this afternoon. My apologies for the mistake."

"Yes, okay. So you're fine with this? Me being here? Because I could request-"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" He replied vacantly, touching the image on the screen with his finger. In reality, he didn't want to face her. He had prepped himself in his office- he wouldn't break face around Emily. His feelings impassioned or not, must remain stifled.

"I mean, I just don't want things to be uncomfortable." She was prodding. She wanted to get something, anything- _anything _to cite that he hadn't forgotten her entirely.

Finally, Aaron spun around. "There's nothing to feel uncomfortable about, Agent. I am your superior; you are part of my team. I will manage you just as I do everyone else." With a noncommittal nod, he headed out into the bullpen. He called over his shoulder, "You have ten minutes left."

A tear slipped down her cheek- stupid, immature, yet permanent. She couldn't help but feel her lower lashes moisten as she used her sleeve to shield her eyes. She found the airstrip by sheer ingenuity and boarded, sitting in between JJ and the young agent Reid, who was playing cards with Gideon across the table. She just wanted to stay as far away from _Hotch_ as possible. JJ turned to her with another bubbly look. "It's so exciting to have another girl around here! Our last agent wasn't much for conversation- _let's talk about boys._"

Emily had to snigger at the comment; causing Reid to glance up. "Do girls really do that?"

"What?" Asked JJ, "Talk about Boys? Of course."

"Oh. I figured that was some bad nineties media stigma."

Emily gave her new friend a sideways glance- the blonde just shook her head. From the seat behind them, Morgan piped up. "He's –sexually challenged."

Gideon coughed. "Well, he is sure he's not carrying any STDs. You, on the other hand, might consider getting yourself checked out."

"Haha, Old Man. Been there, been checked, done that."

"You mean _them_. Done _them_- as in, sleazy women." Everyone kind of chuckled. Emily, though she was enjoying herself, couldn't help but note that Aaron Hotchner sat alone in the back. She gave a sideways glance over her shoulder. "Hotch is fine back there. He's working hard. He doesn't joke until the case is over." Gideon explained.

"Really? I'm amazed he jokes at all." Prentiss retorted. JJ patted her arm, understanding- as women do- that something was strange between the boss and their newest agent. They fell into a silence, broken only when Gideon calmly announced a checkmate to Reid, who proceeded to analyze the game for the rest of the ride.

When they arrived, Hotch dispersed them. "Gideon, you and Reid head to the first crime scene. JJ, you and I will go to the station and meet the police. Morgan, you take Agent Prentiss to the first family- see what you can learn." Morgan led her to an awaiting black SUV.

"So, you and Hotch- _already at odds_."

"You could say that." Emily didn't want to talk about it all, if that wasn't clear enough, but especially not with a man. She kind of wished she could talk to JJ- maybe, never naming Hotch specifically, but talking about these awful dating predicaments she seemed to find herself in.

"Trouble-maker; you'll fit right in, here." He left it at that, as they pulled into the driveway of a quaint looking townhome. As they got out, Emily couldn't help but note how normal it looked- picturesque, even. She was quickly reminded of how inaccurately an exterior can present the truth. Morgan knocked on the door.

An hour of hysterical crying and sniffling wasn't much of an interview, and the two reported in with about as much as they left with. Hotch seemed neutral, as per usual, but almost disappointed. "Agent Prentiss, JJ will need to train you on how to better conduct an interview to extract information."

Morgan gave him a sideways glance, "Hotch, you're the boss- can't you do that?"

"I didn't ask for a regurgitation of my duties, Agent. It's not your call." Even Morgan seemed taken aback by the sudden shift in mood. He just nodded. "We're breaking for dinner. Gideon, JJ, and I are headed next door to get Chinese." He didn't extend an invite but Morgan followed anyway.

"Derek, I'm not sure we're invited."

"Of course we are. Hotch just woke up on the wrong side of the jet this morning- come on. Just avoid him, we all do when he gets like this." She followed quietly, and felt extremely awkward as they met up with the others in the restaurant.

JJ made a point to run and grab her. "Emily! Hey, I was hoping you'd join us. I figured none of the _men_ had the decency to invite you two. Sit next to me." She did, though that meant she was directly across from Hotch. He never spoke to her, though through the course of the meal, he bumped her a few times with his leg as she uncrossed his ankle from his knee.

"Sorry." He muttered. She nodded, slurping her Lo Mein awkwardly.

"So, Hotch, can I share a room with Emily tonight, _please_? Reid is nice and all, but I can't paint my nails and gossip with him."

"-Not that you haven't tried." Morgan commented. Even Hotchner chuckled, despite himself.

"Fine. But if I get one noise complaint, you two will be permanently separated." He sounded serious, but everyone else laughed. Emily smiled along.

"Yay!" _JJ could be a real girl sometimes_, her roommate noted.

That night, the two girls hurried to their hotel room like school children. Slamming the door shut, JJ grinned. "Now, out with it!"

"Out with what?"

"What's with you and Hotch? You have to tell me!"


	6. Like We've Never Been Here Before

"**Okay, but you have to swear not to tell anyone." **Prentiss warned, her back still pressed against the hotel door. JJ made her way over to the bed, flopping down and grabbing a pillow to hug to her chest. Emily followed suit, feeling much the preteen girl she once was.

"I swear, I swear. Now, spit it out."

"I'm serious, JJ- if this gets out-" Admittedly, she didn't know JJ well; they had only really just met. However, she could sense that she and the blonde homicide detective would be fast friends: after years undercover with the CIA, she quickly learned to pinpoint who she could trust. Besides, they were two girls playing on an all-boys team, so to speak, and they needed to be friends to survive the BAU's testosterone levels.

"It won't. _I am the media liaison for the FBI_. I control what everyone knows. I can keep a secret." That certainly was true. In fact, JJ was most often the trusted confidant of the team: from Morgan's fears of inadequacy, to Garcia's secret love of all thing Twilight, she was the keeper of secrets. She guarded them like she would any of her own and was never shocked by anything said- or, almost anything.

What Emily had to say would take her by fierce surprise. "Hotch and I- we kind of had this _thing_. It was a long time ago- I was just eighteen, then. But still, it's kind of awkward."

"Like: a _thing- _a romantic thing."

"Like a: he may -or may not- have been my lawyer and we may- or may not- have had sex for a few weeks during the trial- type thing." In earnest, Emily wasn't a gossip. But she felt so trapped, always having to pretend around Hotch- around the team. It was as if she had to tell someone, so she wouldn't hold the secret alone. And JJ was the person to tell; the only one she could trust. So she told her everything.

JJ's mouth gaped open when Emily was finally finished. Preparing for the worst of backlashes, she was taken aback when JJ grinned devilishly. "Was he- you know, good in bed?" They both smiled.

"**Oh my god!"** Prentiss found herself blushing at the memory of it all. "I was really young, then. He was in his late twenties. So, I remember him being- _god_- really good in bed." The two FBI agents squealed aloud, much like middle school girls. They were still giggling when they heard a swift knock on their door. JJ jumped up to answer it.

"**What did I tell you about the noise?"** It was Hotch, already in his pajamas, looking cross. "Seriously, agents- keep it down. I can hear you laughing through the walls. I know you have some _feminine escapade_ to catch up on, but I'm trying to sleep."

"Sorry, Hotch. Won't happen again." JJ promised, giving him that valley-girl smile. He rolled his eyes.

"You're right; it won't. Goodnight." He returned to the room next door, seemingly unaware that their loudness was centered on a conversation about him. Both women were relieved. As soon as they were certain they were safe, they began whispering about everything that had occurred in the romantic entanglement up to that point.

"We never talked again. But, today, when we were leaving his office, he put his hand on my lower back and I thought- I thought he was thinking about me, too. But he's pretending like it never happened." Emily then launched into an explanation of their encounter in the boardroom, which also made JJ gasp again.

"That's just not like Hotch- if he didn't still have feelings for you, he wouldn't have made such a big deal of bringing it up; he would've just told you to _keep your head in the present_," The younger woman gave a believable Hotchner impersonation. "And left it at that. He's totally into you."

"I don't know." Emily pulled her hair back into a bun, trailing off.

"I do. And that settles it; you two need to get together- at least for sex. He hasn't gotten any in a year, I'm sure."

"No way. He's still extremely –attractive- and I'm sure he's married, or dating."

JJ shook her head. "He was married- they got divorced. But, he still loved her."

"Lov_ed_?"

"She was murdered. By one of our UnSubs. Hotch is raising their son, Jack, alone- he hasn't really dated."

"**Well, no shit!"** As girls know, it is impossibly difficult to keep quiet while in the company of friends. Emily's raise in octave earned them another stern knock. Just as if they were on an overnight school trip, their unit chief was standing outside the door, tapping his foot.

"Again with the shouting. That's it, you two are separated. JJ, get your stuff- you're coming with me." He seemed extremely displeased and, as always, quite serious. He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed dauntingly.

"But, my stuff's unpacked. Can't Prentiss go?" JJ pouted.

Clearly finished with the childishness, he snapped, "I don't care as long as you two are separated and quiet. Bring your bag, Agent." As he turned to go, JJ shared a private wink with Emily, who blushed as she followed him out the door.

When she came into his room, she noted there was only one bed. "I'll take the couch," he mumbled dryly. They both had the urge to note that it felt like they had done this before, but neither spoke. "No, I will; I'm the trouble maker." Prentiss reasoned.

"I'm the one annoyed, I alleviated the problem- let me take it." They continued to bicker politely for a few minutes, before Aaron moved to put both his and her bag onto the couch. "Then we can share the bed, I guess." He paused before adding, _"It's not the first time."_ She blushed. He finally cracked a smile in her direction- one that reminded her of who he used to be, before all this. Emily wasn't sure what his words meant- if he was acknowledging what they had, or not. She decided not to read too far into it.

"Fair enough." She changed into the restroom, coming out in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. "I thought I was sharing a room with JJ. I would've made sure to pack something more appropriate, had I thought-"

"It's fine, Agent. I won't pry." He replied, crawling into bed and turning off his light. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Emily crawled in on the other side, aware of his body and trying not to settle to close. She recognized his deeper breathing- it was a sound from a memory, from her previous life with Aaron.

_When he got in from the office, he would always change out of his suit. "I like to be free of work when I'm at home." He explained one time, when she had asked. So, every evening, she had come to expect this routine. _

_On that particular evening, she wandered in from the living room of Aaron's apartment. "Hey." She gave him a toying smile. He returned it._

"_Hey yourself." He motioned for her to come over, wrapping his arms around her waist when she was in range of his grasp. He nuzzled his nose into her hair softly, allowing his hand to slip just under the hem of her shirt- no further. __**He was always careful with her- afraid she was sensitive**__. _

"_How was work?" She asked him on several occasions, to which he'd always reply –I don't want to talk about it. He never did but she always asked. Because she thought, childishly, that adult couples did that. _

_That day, however, he just sighed. "Not the best." He recoiled from her, heading over to his bed and sitting on the edge of it. She followed, concerned._

"_What's wrong?"_

"_It's nothing. I'm- I'm working a murder case. I hate doing those; talking to their families, seeing the photos, having to stand in the courtroom with the murderer and act civil towards him. He fucking killed a girl, he deserves to be treated like a dog." He spoke so softly then, much unlike the way he usually did- as if his anger was magnified instead by the quiet. _

_Emily didn't know what to say- admittedly, she was sometimes too naïve to understand his adult problems. So, she compensated with a fervent kiss on the lips. She helped him finish undressing by slowly pulling his tie over his head. "You want to forget about it?"_

"_Yes." He pulled her down on the bed, atop of him. _

Emily opened her eyes, startled. It was one of those dreams she had, sometimes- dreams that were really memories. After she had become fully awake, she could recall that night vividly in her mind. With a curious look at the man asleep beside her, she wondered f he remembered it, too.


End file.
